She had just finished the tiresome task of moving the Halcyon across the yard onto the turn table, swiveling it about, and rolling it off onto another line that would point them back to Marrakesh when Taziri saw her passengers trudging across the yard toward her. They looked tired and dusty, but not bloody. She took that to be a good sign. And there was a large bird perched on Qhora’s gloved hand. Taziri had no idea what to make of that.
They filed on board through the narrow hatch and the Italian said, “A slight change in plans, captain. We’ll be continuing to Alexandria from here. As quickly as you can, thank you.”
Taziri stared. “Alexandria? Why? What happened? Where is Kenan? Didn’t you find them?”
“Suffice it to say, they boarded a steamer bound for Alexandria,” Salvator said. “And now we need to pursue them just a little farther.”
“A little farther?” Taziri turned to Qhora. “Dona, what happened? Do you really want to go to Alexandria?” The Mazigh pilot swallowed, hoping for a retraction, for an argument that ended with her setting out for Tingis, back home, back to Yuba and Menna.
This was supposed to be a short charter. Easy money. Why is nothing ever easy?
“Just do what he says,” Qhora said sharply, rubbing her eyes. The huge bird sank its talons into the heavy leather glove on her hand and gazed up at the pilot with its huge golden eyes.
Taziri shook her head. “But that’s inside the Empire of Eran. And besides, I don’t think I have enough fuel to get there and back again.”
“You think or you know?” Salvator asked.
Taziri frowned and sat down in her seat with her pad and pencil. She tapped the fuel gauge, checked her maps for ranges, checked the almanac for wind conditions, and did the math. The answer made her smile. “Not enough. We can’t make it.”
“How far can we make it, captain?”
Taziri shrugged. “All the way to Alexandria, but then only a fraction of the distance back.”
“Excellent.” Salvator smiled thinly. “You can fly us to Alexandria now so we can attend to our business, and then we simply chain this wonderful contraption of yours to the next train heading west and roll back home on the rails.”
Taziri felt her heart sink. He was right. That would work.
Damn it! I finally build something perfect, and this is the thanks I get.
“All right, then, if that’s the plan, we’ll go to Alexandria,” she said. “But I need to be perfectly clear on this. When we arrive, I will be staying with the Halcyon the entire time we are there. I won’t go with you, I won’t stay in a hotel, and I won’t even leave the rail yard. In Eran, the railroads are all owned by the government and officials can commandeer them at any time for any reason, and other people have been known to steal, damage, and destroy them just to spite the government. So I will be here, inside this cabin, the entire time we are in Alexandria. And if there is some danger that I can’t talk my way out of, then I might just have to roll out, and fast.”
Salvator frowned. “That would not be ideal, for us.”
“Sorry, but that’s the deal.” Taziri stood as tall as she could and tried to look as cruelly apathetic as she could. She hated the idea of abandoning anyone, for any reason, but now that she was out of the Corps, she was on her own. And Aegyptus was very, very far from home and help. “I can’t let the Eranians take this engine, for obvious scientific reasons. And I can’t let them detain me, for the same reasons. And other personal reasons, of course.”
The Italian nodded grimly. “Agreed. If not for your sake, then for the sake of keeping new technologies out of their hands for as long as possible.”
Taziri rolled her eyes. “Thank you so much.” She took one last look at Qhora and her feathered companion, and then she sat down in the pilot’s seat for her last few preflight checks. Minutes later, the Halcyon was clacking down the westward track out of Carthage. When they were clear of the city, she pulled the big lever and the machine was once again transformed from locomotive to aeroplane and they clawed their way high into the midmorning sky. Taziri brought them around in a wide arc to point eastward along the northern coast of Ifrica, and pushed the throttle forward.
I hope this is a very brief detour.
The flight from Carthage to Alexandria was only slightly longer than the flight from Tingis, but she had only gotten a brief reprieve from the pilot’s seat at the rail yard. One hour? One and a half? How long can I go until I absolutely need to sleep? Even after we land, will it be safe for me to sleep at all?
Taziri tried to wiggle her toes and stretch her legs, and roll her shoulders and massage her neck while flying the plane, but the flight stick, throttle, and control pedals all required constant attention so there was no real escape from the droning stress of the task at hand. Fortunately, she had plenty of food and water stashed in the small compartments and cubbies and nets all around her and she could buy herself a few moments of distraction by eating dried fruit and spiced nuts, and drinking lukewarm tea splashed with mint.
Eventually, she told her passengers about the food stashed under their seats as well.
Hours passed. The sun drifted effortlessly across the sky, shifting from slightly ahead of them to slight behind, and then directly behind as the afternoon grew later. Taziri kept one eye on the ground below, always keeping the Halcyon directly on the coast with the continent on her right and the Middle Sea shining on her left. But even if luck wasn’t with her, the weather certainly was. It was a bright clear day with only a few white, puffy clouds and there was no danger of a storm or fog to throw them off course or otherwise threaten their journey.
After six hundred miles, Taziri frowned.
Over halfway now. This is it. I’m committed to the plan. Not enough fuel to get back to Carthage even if I wanted to. Damn, this is stupid. We didn’t need the money this badly. It was only a few months’ income…
From time to time, they passed over a tiny village or a small town on the coast, and each time Taziri consulted her maps and fuel gauge, checking to see whether the Trans-Eranian Railway entered the town itself. But each time the rails ran past to the south and she was reassured that they had not yet found Alexandria.
It was very late in the afternoon when she saw the railroad tracks sweep in closer to the coast and a dark blot appeared on the ground, studded with fiery lights. The city sprawled more than five miles along the edge of the Middle Sea, and another mile inland. The harbor was divided by a long hammer-head peninsula, and just east of that and to the right a circular lake marked the southern edge of the city. Huge stone towers glowed red in the light of the setting sun, and huge windmills turned slowly in the sea breeze. Hundreds of ships, from tiny fishing dories to sleek xebecs to massive ironclad steamers drew bright wake trails through the harbors.
Here we are. Taziri grimaced. Alexandria.
She circled about once to line up with what seemed to be a less important-looking railroad track on the west side of the city and she landed the Halcyon with a sharp clang and shudder using the guide clamp. With the wings folded up, she was confident that no one would think the machine was anything other than a locomotive, but she had no idea what sorts of flying machines were common in the Empire and no idea how curious the locals might be. She kept up their speed as they clacked along the rails past farms and houses, past shops and temples, past warehouses and factories, and didn’t stop until they had passed straight through a small train station and rolled into a wide, shadowy rail yard where a dozen old freight cars and one ancient steam engine sat in dusty silence.
Taziri shut everything down quickly and then locked down the engine’s starter, the fuel cap, the folding wings, and the propeller. Even if they capture this thing, she thought grimly, they won’t be able to do anything with it.
Finally, she unstrapped herself from her seat and turned to watch her passengers stand and stretch and mutter to each other. “Dona Qhora,” she said, “I should tell you that you will not find the people here, that is, the men here, as chivalrous as those in Espana. There are two kinds of men in Eran. Those who have been well- educated in all things, and those who have been educated only in one thing. Ego. The former will ignore you. But the latter may treat you poorly for being a foreigner, and for not upholding their faith, and most of all just for being a woman.”
The Incan lady stood up, imperious in her military jacket with her hulking eagle on her arm. “What would you suggest then?”
Taziri frowned and glanced at the Italian. “Stay close to Salvator. As long as people think you are with him, they will probably ignore you.”
Qhora’s face betrayed no emotion. “I’ll do whatever needs doing. Thank you for your services thus far, captain. We will return as soon as we can so we may all leave this place.”
